


All The Girls With Heads Inside a Dream

by thehermitxx



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aurora is ALIVE, Canonical Child Abuse, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender Bent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Noah is alive, Not really a slow burn, Past Suicide Attempt, Slow Burn, Swearing, because ronan, but kinda, girls!, no magic sorry, pynch centric, ronan lynch is a disaster gay, they’re girls!!, wlw!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 06:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehermitxx/pseuds/thehermitxx
Summary: Me writing a pynch AU but gender-bent because i can only write girls.-Ronan Lynch and Eve Parrish fall in love. I guess shit just falls apart from there.





	All The Girls With Heads Inside a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> hi so this is my Second TRC fanfiction on this godforsaken website and apparently i’ve already gotten tired of writing them as Raven Boys so here i am, being a lesbian, writing a pynch fic with Raven Girls. Sue me.
> 
> there’s gonna be more chapters and i promise there will be a plot to some capacity (even though this entire chapter is just Ronan being an absolute disaster thinking about how gorgeous Eve is) but i wrote this first one in like an hour and a half and didn’t edit it. off to a great start!
> 
> also, just incase you’re stupid:
> 
> Gansey is still Gansey. Because it’s a last name.
> 
> Ronan is still a ronan, because it’s a unisex name (and what’s coller than a girl named ronan?)
> 
> Adam is Eve. because...well...... adam and eve......
> 
> Noah is Nora. Because they sound similar.
> 
> Blue is still blue. Because Blue is a weird name. and Blue is still a girl.
> 
> Kavinsky will still go by kavinsky because even when as a girl she doesn’t deserve to be referred to by her first name.
> 
> (Henry might be here eventually but idk what her name will be lmao)
> 
> anyway why are you reading this? i am a loser. just read the chapter. pls like it and validate me.

Eve parrish was beautiful. 

That’s pretty much all Ronan was able to think about at this very moment, she certainly wasn’t going to be thinking about her classwork. Eve Parrish’s hands were much more slender and much more beautiful than Latin conjugations. Latin was the one class she regularly attended at Aglionby—the only class she actually did her work in—yet she still managed to spend most of it distracted by Eve Parrish: an expert in everything but herself.

Eve was Ronan’s friend. Her’s and Gansey’s and Nora’s, at least. She was her friend. Nothing more. Of course, she wanted to watch her and hold her and kiss her for hours and hours and hours in a  _ friendly _ way. Of fucking course.

_ God, stop being such a fucking loser, Ronan. _

There was a metallic taste in her mouth, which was fucking disgusting, so she abandoned biting down the inside of her cheek for playing with the leather bands on her wrist. God-damnit. She felt gross, that was the only way to put it. Like her insides were churning and heating up and she had to tear her gaze away from Eve. Fuck. It was all wrong. She hated it.

It wasn’t so much that Eve was a  _ girl _ and Ronan liked  _ girls _ , it was more than Eve was her  _ friend  _ and Eve liked  _ guys.  _

It was also more that Ronan didn’t like to like people. She much preferred to stay in a constant state of  _ if you fucking look at me i’ll fucking kill you _ . It was easier to hate people than to like them. Safer, too. 

Either way—hating someone, liking someone, loving someone—Ronan always ended up angry.

When Latin was finally over, the three of them got up at varying times. Gansey first because she was talking to some other raven girl about some random nerd shit because the three things she does best are, in no particular order; researching, networking, and accidentally pissing off Eve. Or Ronan. Or both.

Ronan second because while she didn’t plan on making a break for her next class (she probably wouldn’t even go) she also didn’t have anything to collect from her desk besides her bag that was thrown lazily to the floor. Eve, on the other hand, meticulously put all her things—notebooks, pencils, textbooks, a granola bar that was either a late breakfast or a pre-lunch—into her bag and stood up last. 

“So, lunch?” Gansey asked, who was apparently done with the other raven girl.

“Where the fuck else would we go?” Ronan snorted, “Coming, Parrish?”

Eve had been looking out the window, not paying much attention to Gansey or the girl or Ronan. She smiled, “Am I invited?”

Neither of them entertained this question, and off they went to lunch.

-

To say that the Aglionby cafeteria was loud would be an understatement. It was so fucking loud that Ronan wasn’t sure she would be able to hear at all by the end of the year. She also wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t drop out by the end of the year, but that is exactly the kind of thing she didn’t want to say in front of Gansey, so she chose to complain about the hearing, instead.

Gansey, of course, had very important thoughts on this topic. Specifically, she said, “I didn’t think it was that loud.” 

“Well you’re old. You probably can’t fucking hear anyway,” She retorted. It was funnier in her head. Maybe the old jokes were getting, well. old. She refused to stop making them, though.

Eve had nothing to say on the matter. (She had a lot to think, though.)

“I was thinking maybe Nino’s tonight?” Gansey asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. She had cut it recently, the waves only reaching just above her shoulder. Counting Nora, the four of them managed to display the four main possibly hair lengths. Eve’s was the longest, she didn’t find much time to cut it, Nora’s was shorter (and pink), just reaching her lower chest, then Gansey, and then Ronan with her buzzcut. 

Ronan groaned, maybe a little excessively, and took a bite out of her sand which that, somehow, managed to be violent. A lot of what she did was violent, though. Whether or not she tried to make it so.

Gansey furrowed her brow, “What?”

This time, Eve actually did have something to add, “You only wanna go so you can flirt with the waitress.” 

They had this conversation every time she found a way to make the other three accompany her to Nino’s. It was always promises to Eve of studying or to Ronan of regular fucking conversation or to Nora that she wouldn’t force her to eat, but usually ends up being Gansey trying—and failing—to talk to Blue Sargent, the aforementioned waitress. 

The plus side to that is that Nora usually does end up eating. So they went anyway.

It was also endlessly funny to watch Gansey’s sad attempts at flirtation that typically consisted of random historical anecdotes and mentions of trips to England or some other country that Blue would not have gotten around to traveling to. It also typically consisted of Blue getting pissed off and snapping at her. So they went anyway.

“Do you think I should leave her alone?” She asks, running her thumb over her bottom lip, “I don’t want it to seem like I’m harassing her.” 

“Dude,” Ronan adds, eloquently, “she works in the service indistrustry. And at  _ Nino’s _ . I doubt that you’re the worst thing she’s ever had to deal with. Let alone the worst Aglionby girl.”

Eve makes a noise of agreement, and that seems to ease Gansey’s anxiety. “So that settles it then. We can go.” She declares, and then before either of them comment, continues, “And probably get some homework done.”

Ronan laughs, though it sounds more like a painful cough, or a snort, “Speak for yourselves.”

“I’ve got Boyd’s tonight.” Eve said, “Until six.”

“Oh. After then?” Gansey asked.

“I’ve gotta go home, after.”

“Oh.”

Ronan found herself biting the inside of her cheek again. Fuck that. Fuck going home. Fuck  _ home.  _ Eve’s parents’ shitty trailer isn’t worthy of the word. Home was supposed to be warm. Home was supposed to be a place where you go to be loved, not a place where you go to get hit by your father and yelled at by your mother.

She couldn’t help but feel homesick whenever she thought of Eve’s parents. Even though it would only be a few hours—god, that’s all?—until she herself would be back at the barns and with her mom and Matthew, it hurt to think that Eve didn’t have that. Eve didn’t get homesick, only sick of her home.

“‘m off tomorrow at four, I can go then,” She amended, and Gansey suddenly became much brighter.

“Perfect.”

-

There are two main types of boredom. 

There’s casual boredom, where you don’t really know what to do at that moment but you are still fairly content. Like when you just have a little too much free time so you bounce a rubber ball against the wall and play mindless games on your phone. Or like when someone is dragging out a story far more than they need to and you zone out. Or like when Declan tries to give you advice. Or like when there’s nothing good on TV and you just want to laugh at some stupid fucking sitcom goddamnit.

The second type is infuriating boredom. It’s not casual at all. It’s sitting in you’re room staring at the wall and digging your nails into your hands because you’re so  _ fucking  _ bored. It’s knowing  _ exactly  _ what you could be doing to be less bored but also knowing that if you go out with Kavinsky tonight you’ll get absolutely shitfaced and you’re not in the mood to disappoint Gansey again. It’s when you’re so fucking tired of sitting around and making small talk with a fucking  _ bird _ that you just want to be violent. 

Ronan wanted to be violent. She wanted to set a house on fire. She wanted to set herself on fire.

But no. 

Not today. No setting fires today. Sorry. Maybe another day.

So, she drove out to Boyd’s.

-

It was around 4 when Ronan got to Boyd’s. No, 5. When did it become 5? Where did that hour go?

She sat there for a moment, considered just waiting until Eve finished up, decided that another hour of Infuriating Boredom would be, well, infuriating, stopped the car, got out of the car, and went to find her. 

It wasn’t that hard. Some guy—maybe Boyd?—pointed her towards some beat up white pickup truck and the pair of jeans that were coming out from underneath. 

There was a table of tools next to the truck, and she glanced at them before looking back to Eve. Or, more accurately, Eve’s legs. Without saying anything, because greetings are for fucking losers, she toyed around with a wrench until it fell to the floor.

Eve took a sharp breath, banged her head on the bottom of the truck, and then, “Jesus- Jesus christ. Shit.”

She picked up the wrench, “Fucking hello to you to.”

“Ronan?” Wheeling herself out from under the vehicle, she found out that yes, it was Ronan, “What are you doing here?”

Isn’t that the question of the year? What was she doing here? Ronan sure as hell didn’t know. She didn’t know what she was doing at Boyd’s. Or in Henrietta. Or on this planet. Not even on this fucking plane of existence. God herself probably wouldn’t know what she was doing here.

She wasn’t going to ponder this out loud, though. So instead of existentialism, she went for minimalism, “Bored.”

Eve sighed and sat up, “Why are you bored here?”

Ronan just shrugged. 

“I can’t do anything, I’ve still got an hour and then I’m going home.

Ronan scoffed, “Who said I wanted you to?” When there was no response, she continued, “Just fucking work, I’ll drive you back to the trailer park when you’re done.”

Eve considered this for a moment, and then shook her head, “I don’t need you to drive me.”

“Fuck off. I know. I’ll drive you anyway.” There was no point in arguing. Ronan didn’t do shit she didn’t want to do, and Eve was tired. So, very, tired.

“Fine. Try not to break anything.”

Ha!  _ Try not to break anything _ . For Ronan that was like asking someone not to breathe. Not to live. Of course Ronan was going to break something. She broke things all the time. 

The table was uncomfortable to sit on, but she did anyway. She also continued to fuck around with the tools, occasionally handing one over to Eve. Well, maybe not handing them over. More like throwing them at her and barely missing the truck. But whatever.

It was quiet. Not that Ronan really minded, she tended to like the quiet. But in this case the silence was awkward. Like neither of them knew what to say and she hated it because she didn’t know why.

“You hear Nora’s thinking about going back to public school?” She offered.

Eve was quiet for a moment, “Really?”

Even though she had both the money and the intelligence, Nora wasn’t enrolled in Aglionby. She also wasn’t enrolled in Mountain View. About a year back she had had some food issues, some school issues, some life issues, and had completely spiraled and dropped out of Aglionby. She moved out of Monmouth and back in with her parents, went to a few therapy appointments, met with a nutritionist once, and then after a few months her family marked her as good as new. And then she was back in Monmouth.

But not at school. She registered for a few classes online classes and had been taking them since. 

Ronan continued, “Yeah, she says she misses the art classes. Apparently there’s not enough glitter at Monmouth.”

Eve laughed. God, that laugh. Ronan would start fires just to hear that laugh. “Figures. That’s good though. I’m glad.”

It got quiet again, and now it was just annoying. Being around Eve is great. But being able to talk to Eve would be better. (Being able to see eve would be best, though.) After failing to balance a wrench on her finger, she said, “I’m thinking about just covering her entire room with it.”

“With what?” Eve asked, her mind clearly having passed from the specifics of their last conversation. If you could even call it a conversation.

“Glitter.” She tried again, and failed again, to balance the wrench on her finger, so she gave up and watched Eve’s legs instead.

She laughed again, “Oh my god.” 

“What? Offended by my creativity?” Really, Nora had probably made a joke about wanting glitter to completely cover her room before, but to Ronan it still counted as her own idea.

“Not that creative, still funny,” Eve commented, and Ronan made a gasp of feigned offense, “Can I help?”

Instead of saying yes, like a normal fucking person would when a friend asked to do something with them, especially when said friend never fucking does anything, Ronan managed to get out, “Trying to mooch off my ideas? Get your own.”

“You’re such a dick.”

She smiled, “No, that’s Gansey.”

Really, Gansey’s name was Richie. Her Grandfather was Richard Gansey and her father was Richard Gansey Jr, and Richard Gansey Jr. had hoped to raise a Richard Gansey III. Unfortunately, Helen was born a girl and so was Gansey and they only wanted two kids, so, her name was Richie. (They thought it sounded more feminine)

“Technically, no.” Eve corrected.

“Funnily, yes.” Ronan corrected.

“Funnily, no.” Eve corrected again, “Get a new joke. It’s not funny anymore.”

“You wound me, Parrish.”

“Hand me the tool to your left, Lynch.”

Ronan did as told and handed her the tool to her left, and once again the blanket of silence fell over them until it was finally six—which she alerted Eve of by throwing the stubborn wrench at her. 

“What the fuck?” She came out from under the truck. 

“Times up, Jack.” 

“Jack?”

“All work and no play. Dull girl.”

“Really?

“Really.”

“Whatever. I’ve gotta clean up.”

“I’ll wait in the parking lot.”

“I can still bike.”

“I fucking know you can.”

“Fine.”

Ronan walked away and got back into her car, started it, and then turned on some music. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, and she didn’t really care, as long as it was loud.

It was several minutes before Eve was knocking on the window, one hand on the bike next to her, forcing Ronan’s eyes open.

She rolled down the window, “What the fuck? I said I’d drive you.”

“I need to put my bike in the trunk, dipshit.”

Oh, yeah. Dipshit. 

She popped the trunk and waited for Eve to close it and get in the passenger seat. She also swiped her hand away when she tried to lower the volume, “My car. My music.”

Eve rolled her eyes, “I don’t know how you can listen to this.”

“Fuck off.” 

Eve didn’t respond to this, it wasn’t really meant to warrant a response, and Ronan pulled out of the driveway.

The ride to the trailer park was a short one, especially short if you took Ronan’s typical speeding habits into consideration, but she was driving particularly slow this time. It wasn’t that she wanted Eve to be home late—no matter how slow Ronan was she wouldn’t be able to get here home later than she would if she had ridden her bike—it was more than she needed to prepare herself to send her back to a shithole.

She never got used to driving her here. Not that she did it often. Her mother didn’t like her driving after nine and Eve’s shifts typically lasted until after. The times she did, though, it felt as if Ronan was giving her over to her parents. Like in some way it was her fault if she showed up at school later with bruises. 

But she knew that she couldn’t do anything. Maybe she could, if Eve wasn’t so goddamn stubborn about it. No matter how many times Gansey had mentioned the extra room at monmouth or Ronan had offered to ask her mom if she could stay at the barns, she would politely decline every time. Sometimes, Ronan worries that it was Eve’s stubbornness that would eventually kill her.

Still, even as she drive slow, they still ended up at the bottom of the road to the Trailer park within minutes.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Eve smiled, and Ronan—like an idiot—couldn’t help but smile back.

“Nino’s. Four.”

“Right,” She lingered for a moment, and then opened the car door, “Bye.”

Ronan grunted in response and then waited until Eve was far enough up the road before driving away.

It was fine. No fires were set. She was no longer infuriatingly bored. Eve Parrish was a much better past time then setting herself on fire, anyway. Maybe another day, though. 

But until then, Eve Parrish.


End file.
